by Bess McBride
“Reggie is...a cover model,” Phoebe surprised herself by saying. “He was just showing me the outfit for his latest cover.” She dared not look up at Reggie again but kept her face on Annie’s back as she poured coffee into a mug.
“Really?” Annie asked. She returned from the kitchen with her coffee. “Well, let’s all sit down or something. You two are standing there like a couple of guilty teenagers.”
Phoebe slid her hand down to Reggie’s and led him toward the sofa while Annie slipped off her shoes and curled up in one of the easy chairs. Phoebe noted Reggie’s eyes slide toward Annie’s blue-jeaned legs.
“So, a cover model, huh? For your publishing house?” Annie asked.
“Yes,” Phoebe agreed.
“Well, he’s definitely handsome enough.” Annie grinned.
Phoebe peeked at Reggie from under her lashes.
“Well, so anyway, that’s why he’s dressed this way. I’m sorry to hear about Johan.”
Annie shrugged though Phoebe knew her well enough to suspect she masked her pain. Annie was always looking for “the one,” but she seemed determined to pick men with whom she had nothing in common. Annie didn’t even ski.
“Thanks. I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”
Phoebe glanced at Reggie then back at Annie. “We could talk about it later if you want.”
“I’m talked out,” Annie said. “No, I’d rather hear about your fella. How long have you been in the States, Reggie?”
Reggie opened his mouth to speak, but Phoebe jumped in.
“Not long, really. A couple of months?” She looked to Reggie as if confirming.
Reggie nodded and smiled politely.
“Do you always speak for him, Phoebe?”
“Oh!” Phoebe exclaimed. She turned to Reggie helplessly.
“No, not always, Miss...Annie,” Reggie said. “Only when I am taken aback. I did not realize you would return to your home, and I was anxious to find my own lodgings lest you find my presence unsettling, but Phoebe has urged me to stay here. I fear you must uncomfortable with my presence here.”
“Oh, no, I’m fine. I probably won’t be staying long anyway. I’ve got a condo in Hawaii, and I think I might head off to that for a bit. You know, get some sun, melt the ice of Switzerland.”
“And where is…?” Reggie began, but Phoebe intercepted the question.
“I love the Pacific islands. You are so lucky!” Phoebe took Reggie’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“Ah, yes! The Pacific. Beautiful,” he agreed.
“I know. I can’t wait to get there. I’ll look Kathy up when I get there. I think she’s still living on Oahu.”
Phoebe turned to Reggie. “Kathy is a college friend of Annie’s.”
“Indeed.” Reggie nodded.
“Yes, indeed,” Annie said. “So, what brought you over to the United States, Reggie? Just the modeling?”
Reggie looked toward Phoebe who bit her lip, hoping for the best. Annie was already wise to the fact that Phoebe had done most of the talking.
“Yes, modeling.”
“How did you get into it? I’ve never met a male model.”
Phoebe almost jumped when Reggie squeezed her hand, and she turned to look at him. One eyebrow was quirked in her direction, and she had a feeling he had just figured out what his occupation was.
“I began as a child, posing for a painter in my village.”
“A woman who painted children playing,” Phoebe edited. She was afraid Reggie’s words would raise odd questions about the painter in this day and age.
“Yes, a woman.”
“Oh, interesting! And then you just kept on with it as a photographic model?”
“Indeed,” Reggie murmured. Phoebe pressed his hand gently.
“The painter? Is she famous? Would I have heard of her?” Annie asked.
“I do not think so,” Reggie said.
Annie nodded. “And then you came here and met Phoebe.”
“Yes, a fortunate event.”
Phoebe’s heart rolled over. Did he mean “fortunate” as in happy to meet her or lucky she was there to help him? She thought she’d take what she could get. The feel of his fingers laced through hers was both intoxicating and natural, as if she’d known him all her life. She never wanted to remove her hand from his. Never.
Annie finished her coffee. “Well, I’m exhausted. So, if I’m sleeping out here on the couch...” She fixed them with an expectant gaze.
Phoebe jumped up, pulling Reggie with her. “Oh! Sure. You must be exhausted. We’ll go to bed. Are you absolutely sure you don’t want us to sleep out here?”
Phoebe felt Reggie’s hand jerk. She hadn’t quite warned him about the sleeping-together-in-the-bedroom scenario. She kept her eyes on Annie.
“No, no, two of you, one of me. I’m not kicking you of out of your bed just because I can’t get my love life straight. You go on.” She shooed them away. “Just bring me a sheet, blanket, and a pillow, will you?”
Phoebe nodded and pulled a very stiff and resistant Reggie toward the bedroom. She shut the door behind them.
“Miss Warner! Phoebe! I feel as if I have entered a brothel! I cannot spend the night with you in your bedchamber! This is outrageous!” His ramrod straight posture mirrored the emotion of his words.
Phoebe stopped and stared at him. “A brothel? Reggie, I can’t believe you said that!” She turned a shoulder on him and headed for the walk-in closet. “I should have explained what would happen when Annie got here earlier, but there wasn’t much time...or maybe I was afraid you’d have this kind of reaction. Don’t worry, Reggie. I’m not going to ‘violate’ you!” She pulled some extra bedding from the top shelf in the closet and eyed what was left. Someone wasn’t sleeping on the bed, and she suspected it would probably be Reggie. He would need some bedding of his own.
“Violate me? Miss Warner, are you deliberately trying to provoke me? What nonsense! I really must insist on finding other accommodations.”
Phoebe understood Reggie’s concerns—if indeed he did come from the late Georgian era. She had been prepared for some resistance from him, but every now and then he showed an innate arrogance that grated on her, and he was in the throes of an arrogant fit at the moment. She suspected that ordering him to stay might not work.
“Okay, Reggie, just please wait until I take these out to Annie. Then we’ll talk about what you want to do.”
She opened the door and passed through with her load, and the awful feeling that Reggie, had he been a modern guy, would have rejected sleeping in her bedroom just as vociferously as he did now. Was she that undesirable? Her face flamed as if she had just propositioned him and he had turned her down.
She dropped the bedding on the couch. Annie emerged from the half bath in the hall, her toothbrush in hand.
“Oh, thanks. I’m going to need a shower in the morning, but I’m too tired to worry about it tonight.”
“I hate to see you sleeping on the couch in your own place. I’m really very sorry about the inconvenience. Reggie...um...gave up his own apartment when he moved into here, otherwise, we’d stay at his place and let you have this one.”
Annie waved a careless hand. “No problem. I’m the one who dropped in. This is your home too, Mouse.”
“Okay, well, good night,” Phoebe said. She hugged Annie.
“Phoebe?”
“Yes?”
“A male model?” Annie asked. “I can’t see you with a male model. I would never have thought that would be your sort of guy. I thought you liked computer geeks and nerds. At least, that’s what you’ve dated in the past.”
Phoebe shrugged. “Well, just because he does some modeling doesn’t mean he isn’t intelligent.”
“Oh, I’m not saying that. He sounds very smart, but...” She paused. “Does he do anything else for a living? He can’t just make a living as a cover model, can he?” Annie’s eyes narrowed. “He isn’t an exotic dancer or something, is he?”
Phoebe laughed. “No! And he’s not an actor wannabe either. No, just a model. I think he makes a pretty decent living at it.”
“I know it’s none of my business, hon, but does he contribute financially? I’m just kind of worried. You never mentioned him, but you say you’ve been together for...” She narrowed her eyes, and shook her head. “I don’t think you said. Anyway, you’d said he’d only been here a couple of months and now he’s given up his apartment? Cover models really can’t make that much, can they?”
Phoebe gritted her teeth and held back retorts regarding Annie’s flawed personal life. She had little enough room to be concerned about Phoebe’s life.
“Well, cousin, Reggie does fine. He contributes. Actually, he comes from a wealthy family in England, some sort of aristocracy. I’m not too worried about it. So, not to worry.” Phoebe turned for the bedroom. “Sleep well.”
“I will,” Annie yawned. “What are y’all’s plans tomorrow?”
Phoebe paused at the bedroom door. “Oh, shopping,” she said on a forced careless note.
“Can I join you?” Annie asked. “I need to do some shopping, too.”
“Ummm...sure! I think we’re mostly shopping for him though. He wants to buy some new clothes.” How was she going to explain his clothing to Annie in the morning? She’d have to think of something. Phoebe didn’t want to imagine how a shopping expedition for Reggie was going to go with Annie along.
“Night!” Phoebe said and entered the bedroom.
Chapter Four
Reggie, in Phoebe’s absence, paced the room, stopping occasionally to peer at the various pieces of furniture, photographs and a square black box with a glass face. He fingered the bedclothes and the curtains, noting a feminine flower pattern on both. The carpet, tan in color, covered the floor in its entirety, and he searched for the edge to lift in order to peer under it, but he could find no edge. The carpet appeared to be attached to the walls.
To say he was discomfited failed to adequately describe his state of mind. He fully understood that he had arrived not only in America—as he had desired, but almost two hundred years into the future. Had customs changed so much that it was now permissible for an unmarried man to sleep in the bedchamber of an unmarried young lady? Of course, were the need to share a room with her to become a necessity, there was absolutely no question that he would behave toward Phoebe in any manner other than as a gentleman. Nevertheless, he was adamant that he find other sleeping arrangements.
Phoebe returned, and he stopped his pacing and turned to face her, his hands clasped behind his back.
She gave him an uncertain look and took a chair next to a bureau.
“Could you sit down for a minute, Reggie? We need to talk,” she said softly as she nodded toward an upholstered tufted bench at the end of the bed.
“If it pleases you, Phoebe, but I warn you, I will not be dissuaded. I will not sleep in your bedchamber.” He took a seat reluctantly and waited.
Phoebe’s cheeks flamed, and he knew a moment of remorse.
“Look, Reggie, we’re in a bit of a bind here. I would never suggest that you sleep in my bedroom under any other circumstances, especially since I can see that the idea repels you.”
Reggie sought to protest but Phoebe continued.
“Things are different now as I’ve probably already told you a dozen times. No one is going to say anything about you or me if you happen to sleep in my bedroom. No one is going to know. I understand that this isn’t done in your time, but it actually is in my time. I really, really, really think it would be a bad idea for you to go to a hotel, and frankly, you don’t have any money.”
Phoebe folded her arms across her bosom in a mutinous fashion much as he had done as a small boy when at odds with his father. He could hear the discomfiture in her voice when she used the word “repel,” and he cursed himself for being an ungrateful cad. Further, Phoebe was correct. He had no money, nor was he certain he could take lodgings on account since he was unknown.
“Forgive me, Phoebe, I fear I have insulted you. I never meant to suggest that you ‘repel’ me or that the notion of sharing a bedchamber with you,” his voice took on a husky note, “did not hold appeal for me. I have heard your assurances that this sort of arrangement would not be accompanied by the inevitable scandal as it would in my time, and I believe you are the best judge of that. You are correct in your statement that I lack funds at present. It is a humiliating situation for me, and one I hope to remedy soon. With your permission then, I shall find a corner of the room and prepare a makeshift bed.” He rose and bowed. “Please accept my assurances that nothing untoward will occur, and that your virtue will be safe with me.”
Phoebe clasped and unclasped her hands. “I’m definitely not worried about that, Reggie.” She smiled faintly. “I’ll get some stuff. Too bad I don’t have an airbed. Maybe we can pick one up tomorrow while we’re out.” She stepped into the closet and spoke from within its confines. “At any rate, if Annie leaves for Hawaii like she said, and you’re still here, you can always take the couch like we originally planned.”
Reggie said nothing. He could not forget the wounded expression on Phoebe’s face. Did the girl actually want him to sleep in her bedchamber? He cleared his throat and put the thought from his mind.
“Phoebe,” he began. “Why does your cousin call you Mouse?”
Phoebe emerged from the closet, her arms laden with bedding. He stepped forward to take the linens from her arms.
“My middle name is Minerva, and she calls me Minnie Mouse on occasion.”
“Minnie Mouse?”
“It’s a character in a cartoon.”
“I do not know what a kar-toon is, but Minerva is the goddess of wisdom and often depicted with an owl, not a mouse.”
Phoebe put her hands on her elbows and surveyed the room.
“Yes, she was, and that is why you should trust me. I’m sure my parents knew what they were doing when they named me.” The corner of her lips twitched, and Reggie’s heart lightened. Although he did not understand the nature of his indiscretion and had sought only to protect her reputation by insisting upon other sleeping accommodations, he vowed to let the matter rest—if only to see Phoebe smile again.
He bowed his head. “I put myself in your care.”
Phoebe looked up sharply. “Good! Well, where shall we put your makeshift bed? Have you ever slept on the ground before?”
Reggie allowed that he had not.
“How about over here against the wall, near the bed? That’s the only spot I can think of with enough room.” She surveyed him from head to foot, and he stiffened for a moment, unused to such frank assessment from a woman. “You’re pretty tall.”
She took the linen and bent on her knees to smooth out a sleeping area for him. Reggie wondered how he would sleep, but he did not care to alienate Phoebe further. He knelt down to assist her, enjoying the close proximity to her. She seemed remarkably agile for a young woman, especially one in a skirt which reached only to her knees.
“There,” she said as she straightened. “It doesn’t look very comfortable, but we’ll figure something out tomorrow, okay? There is no way I can share the bed with you, and I seriously think you’d have a heart attack if I suggested it.”
Reggie thought he might have an apoplectic fit were he forced to lie next to her in a bed all the night, but he now knew to remain silent on the subject. “The bedding looks to be very comfortable. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She rose to her feet. “Well, I need to take a shower. I’ll just change in the bathroom and then hop into bed when I come out. Don’t wait up!”
Reggie rose hastily and bowed again. “As you wish.” He waited until she gathered her things and closed the door behind her before sinking down onto the bench at the end of the bed. Unable to resist the softness of the mattress behind him, he leaned back, resting his head on the bed and staring at the ceiling.
If nothing else, life in the twenty-first cent
ury felt very comfortable, even luxurious—from the smooth texture of the living room furnishings and carpet to the equipment involved in the preparation of meals, and from the instant hot water in the gleaming bathroom to the softness of the mattress upon the bed. Although he had only experienced the interior of Phoebe’s apartment, he had no doubt the world outside would prove equally comfortable.
He looked forward to their excursion to a clothing shop in the morning as he was in desperate need of a change of clothes. He would most certainly need a nightshirt given that he was required to sleep fully clothed this night with the exception of his coat and boots which he thought he could safely remove with impunity.
Reggie closed his eyes for a moment and listened to the sound of the “shower” in the bathroom. A marvelous invention. He would insist on installing such a system immediately upon his return to England...and his own time. For he had no doubt that he would return. One did not simply travel in time to a distant place, never to be heard from again, did they? No one in his acquaintance had ever done so. Even Sylvie and Thomas Ringwood, and Louisa and Stephen Carver sent letters to Bedfordshire with news of their new life in America.
He opened his eyes. Were they here? In New York City? No, no, of course not. It was not possible. Though they had indeed emigrated to America, they had done so almost two hundred years prior. Still, he thought, would their descendents still live? He would ask Phoebe in the morning.
Reggie closed his eyes again, vowing to rise in only a moment’s time to make use of the bed Phoebe had so carefully prepared for him. In just a moment.
****
Reggie opened his eyes to the sound of tapping on the bedroom door. He bolted upright and rubbed his eyes. The room was dark though it had been lit by lamps only moments before.
The door opened.
“Mouse?” Annie whispered as she thrust her head just inside the door. “Are you awake yet? I really need a shower this morning.”